


Paradox

by Hugabug



Category: Heneral Luna (2015) RPF
Genre: Other, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 22:20:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6212395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hugabug/pseuds/Hugabug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>they are the paradox you are caught between</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paradox

With Ben, it’s warm.

It’s all dragging fingers and open mouthed kisses and tongues lapping you up and leaving your hips canting and your throat littered with red marks and your legs shaking with a pleasure you never knew was possible. You moan when he thrusts his searing cock into your wet hole and you gasp when he rolls a nipple in his hot mouth and you whimper when he palms your other breast in a callused hand. You think _no, no it’s too much it’s too much_ — but you meet each flick of his hips with a raise of your own and all his kisses you return, even if the fire in your chest and the liquid heat pooling in your belly threaten to burn you and engulf you in flames. Even if you know that his mouth will brand you and leave you languid and immobile for days on end.

You let him take you and you wrap your legs around his waist and you bite your lip and you give a cry as the friction you both generate gets redder and redder and hotter and hotter and _wetter_ and _wetter_ —

It gives way to a silky rush of white hot fluid and all you can do is _explode_.

* * *

With Paulo, it’s frigid.

It’s all cooling saliva upon your thighs and ice cold fingers roughly pulling at you hair, baring to sharp teeth the pliant flesh of your throat, your collar bone, and of your breasts. His incisors sink into you and you feel claimed somehow, with your eyes upturned toward the heavens and your body laid bare for the Devil to devour, the want and the need to be marked buzzing beneath the goosebumps of your skin like rivers of melted icicles snaking their way down your bare back. You shudder and you beg for mercy _and_ for more as your wrists are pinned above your head and your shivering cunt gives way to a leaking member and your throat bears witness to the fangs of a venomous snake and you lay there, a writhing, begging mess and you take it.

You take every thrust, every snap of his hips and you try your very best to stop yourself from _screaming_ but you can’t because his teeth are on your collar bone, sinking, _sinking_ —

He releases, a sudden avalanche of spine-tingling liquid, and all you can do is _shatter._

* * *

With them both, it’s an experience.

Ben’s warm palms on your hips, Paulo’s icy fingers in your aching pussy. You writhe between them, your back warmed by Ben’s chest and your nipples stiff against Paulo’s tongue. They graze you in all the right places, leave you wanting and needy, a little slut between your boys as your legs fall open and your head tips back, neck bare to two mouths who battle for control—one biting, leaving behind deep purple as you cry out for mercy, and the other soothing, tracing each mark with the flat of a tongue as you moan, as you beg and you plead and you scream; _yes, yes, there, there, yes, yes, **yes**_ —

They enter you at the same time, two members, one paradox, and, once again, you take it—the searing heat and the frigid cold. And you ride and you sigh and you grapple and you throw your head back as callused palms cup your breasts and icy fingers clutch your ass and teeth sink into you and tongues trace rivers down your back and you cry out _oh, good boys, very good, very very good boys—oh! **Oh!** Oh, yes, yes— **ngghhh** , right there. **Right**. **There** —_

You come with a whimper, and they come to the symphony of it, and all you can do is _collapse_.

* * *

In the dark, you feel hands roam and fingers trace and chests rise and fall in an effort to return to earth from the stars behind your eyes and the solar systems behind theirs.

But you don’t want to return, not just yet.

And neither do they.

“We love you.” One says, chapped lips mouthing the words into your cleavage, misty breath making goosebumps break out across your panting chest.

“So much.” The other agrees, tracing each syllable on plane of your back, warm teeth leaving indents in quivering flesh.

They kiss you—obscure signatures to obscure love letters only you know exist—and you kiss them in reply, soft and lazy and pleased.

“My boys.” You coo, chortling as they nuzzle you close. “My good, good boys.”

They wrap you in a cocoon, cool and warm and hot and cold, and all you can really do, within this tiny little world that the three of you have crafted all for yourselves, is _smile_.

* * *

(And maybe also prep yourself for Round 2, because _why not?_ )

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to my bad influences: my best friend @theflyingbluepanda & the wonderful @trixenthenerdqueen both on tumblr


End file.
